Ever Lonely (Ever James Band Book 1)

by Kimberly Lauren

  She kissed Rhett’s cheek on the way out the door, and he asked her to tell Thomas ‘hello’ for him—I presumed that was his stepfather. What a weird family dynamic.

  "Son, who… who did you bring?" Richard asked in a hoarse voice.

  "Dad, this is Ever. I told you I would bring her sometime. See…" He walked over to a corkboard that resembled the one in his tiny apartment. This one was also covered in neon Post-it notes, but these were placed in a more organized fashion and there were far fewer of them. He plucked one off and carried it over to his dad.

  “Rhett is going to bring Ever to meet you," he read. “Remember I told you yesterday?”

  “I know you told me that yesterday," his dad grumbled. He gestured toward the board and Rhett grabbed a few more notes for him. Then he stared at them for what felt like forever while Rhett and I stood patiently and let him read.

  Finally, Rhett pulled out a stack of brand new Post-it notes and placed them on the tray in front of his dad with a pen. “Keep writing, Dad.” He motioned gently to the stack.

  Richard continued to read the notes in front of him. Sometimes he would read one and place it down, only to pick it back up and review it again.

  Rhett grabbed my hand again and squeezed. I wondered how hard it would be to watch your parent decline every day.

  "Oh…" Richard said slowly. "You're an artist, and Rhett is going to play with you."

  "Yes, sir." I smiled. "He's pretty talented."

  “Wow!” Rhett beamed. “I might bring her to visit you more often, Dad. She never compliments me.”

  “You hold my brother’s hand?” he asked me, apparently missing Rhett’s banter. My heart sunk a little when Rhett’s grip tightened.

  “Not brother. Son. I’m your son.”

  "I said ‘son.’’" Richard quickly waved us off and then looked at me again. "You hold my son's hand?"

  “He holds mine,” I corrected, looking down at my hand inside of Rhett’s larger one. “I’m sure he brings all the girls here and holds their hands,” I teased.

  "What's that, dear? I don't know what you're talking about. I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast." He looked at me with a deadpan expression, and I swallowed roughly, not knowing how to respond. Then a sly smile spread across his mouth.

  "Dad! Did you just tell a joke?" Rhett burst out laughing, and I sighed in relief next to him then smiled brightly. "You always would do anything for a pretty girl."

  "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson." I held out my hand and shook his frigid one in return.

  "Did you bring… your…" he started to ask and then stopped altogether. His face went blank, and I looked over at Rhett. Had he noticed that?

  “My guitar?” Rhett finished for him, without missing a beat. “Not today. We’ve got a lot on our plate getting this album going and making sure we’re ready for a live performance.”

  “An album?” his father asked.

  “Yeah for the band, Dad.”

  “What band?”

  “The band Ever and I are in together.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” he said, his voice vacant. I had a feeling we had lost his attention or grasp on the topic.

  Rhett winced and then tried to stifle a sigh of frustration. I imagined he was disappointed in himself for getting frustrated. I wanted to tell him it was okay—it was a frustrating situation. He was allowed to have negative feelings toward his father’s condition. That didn’t make him love his dad any less.

  He stood and walked away from the bed and ran both hands through his hair. He searched his jean pockets, but came up empty. When he searched his back pockets, he still didn’t find what he needed. Quickly, he reached into his leather jacket and then popped a red candy into his mouth. I’m sure he would have preferred a cigarette, but I was glad candy, a toothpick, or a straw could pacify him.

  He walked over to the Post-it note board and began plucking a slew of them off and stuffing them into his pocket. When he finished, he straightened out the ones he deemed necessary enough to stay on the board. I gathered he would take the rest for his board at home. I wasn’t sure, but maybe it brought him some kind of comfort.

  “Your physical therapist will be here in the morning,” he informed his dad.

  “What will they do?”

  Rhett closed his eyes for a quick second. Richard hadn’t noticed, but I caught onto it. "They just help keep you moving. You don't want to sit in bed all day. "

  “I don’t like to be messed with,” his dad replied in frustration. He looked down at the notes in front of him and ran his hands over them. “This one says you’re going to bring Ever to meet me.”

  My stomach dropped. How could Rhett stand to see his father this way? How was he coping with all of this?

  Rhett leaned over the bed and gave his dad a hug. Slowly, Richard’s hand came up and patted his son’s back.

  "Another time, Dad. I love you, and I'll see you in a few days."

  “You always say that.”

  "And I always come back in a few days." Rhett smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. He started for the door. I jumped up from my seat and quickly followed, mumbling a ‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson’ before closing the door behind me.

  Rhett had already made it a good twenty feet down the hall by the time I left the room. Just before he reached the area where the nurses congregated behind a large desk, I put my hands on his chest to stop his movement. He ran his hands through his hair and tugged. When they fell back to his sides, his hair was left awry. I reached up and combed it with my fingers, trying to get it back to its usual controlled chaos look.

  “Talk to me,” I whispered.

  "He was back. He was back for like a minute, and I let myself have hope." The pain in his eyes was too much. “It’s so stupid, right?”

  “No, it’s not stupid. It’s understandable.” Great fucking support, Ever. It’s understandable? Idiot.

  "He made a joke!" Rhett’s voice rose and I shushed him, not wanting to call attention to the small breakdown he seemed to be having. "I haven't seen his sense of humor in years. That one little sentence managed to get my hopes all the way up again. Then, just like that”—he snapped his fingers—“he lost the entire memory of our conversation.”

  I cupped the sides of his neck so he couldn’t look away. He needed to talk this out. These were things he needed to vent.

  “This disease is a mean bastard, Pipes. It’s the fucking devil.”

  "It is. No one deserves to go through this or see someone they love go through it," I said softly. "You're amazing. You're an amazing son. That Post-it note board… that was your idea?" He nodded. "Genius."

  “How am I supposed to do this?” he asked. “How can I leave for tours and shows and appearances? How can I just go while he gets worse and worse?” I knew he was really worked up when he pulled out an unlit cigarette and stuck it between his lips.

  I gently pulled it out. “We’ll figure it out. You can Skype with him. I’ll get him a big ol’ screen so he can see your face clearly. You’ll fly back between shows. I have a jet. It’s yours to use. I will make sure you are here as much as possible.”

  Our phones buzzed at the same time, and I reached into my bag to see what Beau had to say.

  “Paparazzi outside,” I groaned.

  Rhett sucked in a startled breath and gripped his hair between his fingers again, messing up what I had tried to fix.

  “I can’t go out there right now,” he rasped.

  Just then, Beth peered around the corner. “Everything okay?” she asked when I made eye contact.

  I gave her a sad smile and asked, “Is there anywhere he can… have a moment?”

  She nodded her head as if she completely understood—and working here, I felt sure she did. She pointed toward a door a few feet away from us. "Of course. It's all yours."

  Rhett didn’t even wait for further instruction. He stepped around me and walked strai
ght into the room, the door closing behind him with a loud click.

  “There’s….” I started to tell her.

  “Paparazzi downstairs?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry for bringing that here. I didn’t think they would find us.”

  "Not your fault, dear. I'm going to assume you didn't call them?" When I shook my head adamantly, she nodded. "Just a nasty side effect of your career, I suppose. Go on in and help that boy down from the ledge he's climbed up on. It's getting harder and harder for him each time he comes in. I'm glad he actually found someone special enough to bring along." She smiled at me, and I turned before she could see the color rise in my cheeks.

  I shot off a quick message to Beau letting him know that we should be down in a little bit. Then I turned the knob on the door and let myself in.

  The lights from the city allowed me to see a little bit in the dark room. The sun had long ago set while we were visiting with Rhett’s dad. The room was vacant, just as Beth had stated. An adjustable bed sat in one corner, stripped bare with sheets neatly folded on top. A brown leather couch sat along the wall facing a desk with a wooden chair. The room looked similar to Richard’s except without the personal effects.

  Rhett stood quietly in front of the windows looking out at the Manhattan skyline, even though the green construction mesh clouded the view. The curtains were opened to the sides and the wooden blinds pulled all the way to the top. Lights from the city outside were shining in front of him, silhouetting his body.

  My feet slowly carried me in his direction, afraid of the raw emotion I would more than likely find on his face. His body appeared rigid and stiff, his hands were atop his head, and I could tell he was just barely holding it together.

  If I were in his situation, what would I want? I definitely wouldn’t want to talk about it. Not at that moment. Not when my feelings were so incredibly painful.

  I ran my hands along Rhett’s sides up to his chest and hugged his body from behind. His hands fell at the same time his head dropped with a rough sigh. I held him tighter, wanting him to know he wasn't alone. I didn't know how he felt, never having been in this particular situation, but I knew loneliness.

  My ear rested against the space between his shoulder blades, my hands were flat against his chest, my entire body lay flush against his. “I’m here,” I whispered.

  “Ever…” he said softly. “I’m still confused. Are you single or not?”

  He couldn’t see, but my eyebrows bunched in confusion. “Yes, I am. I already said that I told Noah I couldn’t be in a relationship with him anymore. This isn’t about him, though. I want to help you. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  A small groan escaped Rhett’s lips, and he pulled my hands away from his body and spun in my arms. His fingers were threaded through my hair when I heard him say, "Me." Then his lips collided with mine.

  Oh.

  I pulled him closer and opened my mouth to invite his tongue inside. The passion behind his kiss was abrupt and forceful. I accepted every single drop of it and begged for more. There was something about Rhett’s lips against mine that felt so natural.

  We both paused for a heartbeat and stared into one another's eyes. I wondered about our next move. The slight glisten in his eyes reminded me of the pain he still felt, and I would do anything to take it away from him if I could.

  Then we moved at the same time. We were always in sync, he and I, and had been since the very first time we stood onstage that night in the bar. My hands ran down the thin cotton t-shirt that covered his firm body, pushing his coat to the floor in the process. His hands ran across my bare skin, and I almost purred at his touch.

  After tossing my jacket to the side, his lips met mine again and a breathless moan escaped my lips. I felt the air conditioning kick on as it blew across my exposed skin, but it was quickly forgotten when I felt Rhett's hand skim across my thigh. My leg instinctively hiked up and around his waist, while my opposite leg balanced on my high-heeled boot. Once again I thanked the makers of the high heel for perfectly placing me at the precise height to feel him in all the right places.

  “Rhett…” I moaned.

  I pushed his t-shirt up over his head, and then my hands flew across his heated chest. Pressing my body further against his, I tried to absorb everything he could give me. Slowly, he nudged the thin straps of my top off my shoulders, and I pulled my arms through. The wispy material slid down and bunched around my waist, leaving me completely uncovered on top.

  His warm hands cupped my breasts, and I pulled him closer to me with my leg. The weight of my head became too much, and I let it fall backward. His lips broke from mine only to skim across my neck. I loved how soft they were, but the pressure he applied was intense and unrelenting—a lot like his personality.

  My breath became labored when he pushed me against the window and ground his length between my legs. It was all too much and not nearly enough at the same time. I needed more.

  I found the zipper of his jeans and worked it down soon after slipping the metal button through the clasp. Rhett let out a pained groan when my hands quickly reached inside and greedily pulled him free. I stroked him from tip to base, not wanting to wait any longer.

  "Shit…" He sucked air in past his teeth. "Shit, Pipes." He grabbed my hands and held them between his. "Tell me you're not doing this because you feel sorry for me."

  I would let that slide. For one, I knew his head wasn’t in the best of places, and two, I wanted him too damn much. I released him from my hands and shoved his chest, but I didn't let him step away from me. He gripped my thigh harder, not allowing me to move even if I had wanted to.

  “Rhett... I would never do anything with someone because I felt pity for them.”

  His hand flew to my jaw, and he held me in place as his lips once again crashed against mine. His kiss was furious and fast, scorching heat flaring beneath my skin wherever his fingers grazed me.

  “Chill, feisty,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” When his mouth moved to my neck, I tilted my head and gave him room to press his lips against my pulse point.

  The throb between my legs ached for something—anything. Fortunately, he didn't leave me hanging for long. When I could hold myself up against the window, one of his hands slid up under my skirt and pushed my panties to the side. He wasn't wasting any time, but I still needed him to move faster. His fingers brushed over me and I inhaled in surprise. He started out slow, watching my face with every minute movement, and then he sped up as he began making circles right there. My breathing picked up and his fingers matched the rhythm of my racing heart. I rocked my hips along with his tempo, trying to reach that pinnacle of pleasure.

  He shifted and his lips were back on mine. I felt his fingers move away, and I moaned in disapproval at the loss. Our tongues danced against each other as he kissed me desperately. My hands grazed around his waist and over the back pockets of his jeans. They lay flat against his perfect ass. Empty.

  “Damn it, where’s your wallet?” I asked breathlessly. I had seen the foil wrapper peeking out of the fold of his wallet a few times.

  He whispered, "In my jacket pocket." Like a bona fide New Yorker, he kept it safe inside his jacket and not where it could easily be lifted from his pants.

  Rhett slid down my body, hands roaming across every reachable inch of my bare skin as he kneeled on the ground. I lifted my leg up onto his shoulder as he furiously searched through his jacket that was a heap on the floor at our feet. He offered the golden wrapper to me, and I wasted no time seizing it from his fingers.

  I was about to rip through the foil when he shoved up my flowy, thigh-length skirt and buried his face between my legs. I gasped and tossed the condom to the windowsill. My fingers gripped his wild, thick locks hungrily.

  The back of my head hit the window when I felt his tongue feverishly working toward one single purpose. And damn it, he was so fucking good at it. Slow, fast, fast, suck
, flick, slow… kiss. It wasn’t going to take me long… we’d had weeks of foreplay leading up to this point.

  I whimpered when he added his fingers to the mix. It was all too much. I was coming before even I knew what was happening. Usually I had to get in the right mental state, but this orgasm came out of left field. Thank God Rhett covered my mouth with his free hand or Beth would have come in here to see what the problem was.

  No problem.

  Absolutely no fucking problem.

  Just a guy with the most fantastic tongue and fingers to ever grace the planet.

  Rhett was standing before I could even bring my head fully upright. His tongue delved into my mouth, and I pulled his face closer, holding on and not wanting him to leave that spot—ever.

  “I could do that all day,” he said against my lips. My legs shook at the idea.

  I reached behind while I sucked his tongue and grabbed the condom. My hands trembled from the shocks still coursing through my body, so he put me out of my misery and took the condom when I couldn’t get the foil to tear open.

  As he held the wrapper between his fingers, he looked into my eyes and smiled. Silently, we spoke a thousand words. Asked a thousand questions. Were we really about to do this? Were we really about to cross that line?

  I felt one of his hands on my thigh, lifting it up higher around his waist, and the other on the back of my neck as he angled me perfectly. I hadn’t realized that he had gotten himself ready while I was staring into his eyes.

  He held me tightly, so I took the opportunity of doing the honors. I gripped him firmly in my hands and stroked him up and down a few times, squeezing just enough to make him groan into my shoulder. I rose up onto my toes and slowly let him slide inside. He didn’t rush, even though I felt his heart beating out of his chest. His grip on my thigh squeezed a bit tighter as he appeared to restrain himself.

  Everything inside me was swollen from my earlier orgasm, and all of my nerves were supercharged. I ground my teeth together, trying to at least muffle the moan that escaped my mouth. My fingernails dug into the bulk of his shoulders.